His association with Sells-Floto brought him twenty thousand dollars a week and a private railroad car to travel in. There was a private railroad car for Tony too. There were servants to cater to Tom's every need. He enjoyed every possible luxury the circus could afford.
But these weren't the things that gave him deep satisfaction during this period. His happiness came mostly from the thrill he received from playing to live audiences. It was far more gratifying to him to play directly to the people, as he did in the circus, than from a rather remote position on the screen. It gave him a kind of electric response to know that the big top was jammed with people waiting in suspense for his glittering entrance and performance.
Invariably, before every performance, he would say to the equestrian director: "We've got to be just a little better today than we were yesterday-all of us-because we've got more to give today than we had yesterday."
The enthusiastic response to his act- which manifested itself in tumultuous cheering and resulted more than once in a wave of fans breaking from the stands and literally engulfing him in the center ring when he finished his act- was like an elixir to him. He kept striving for a higher degree of perfection and he achieved it, in spite of the fact that he had to do his circus riding with one shoulder held together by wire. The injuries he had suffered to his spine also caused him periods of agonizing pain. But the spectators were completely unaware of what he had to undergo at times. When he was in the saddle he was radiant, and this radiance seized the spectators and washed right back to him like a tidal wave.
Though Tom was in his early fifties, he had lost none of his litheness, grace and facility of movement, nor any of the magnetic qualities that had made him a star in the first place. Whenever he was acting, he was vibrant and alive, utterly oblivious to any physical handicaps. It was an amazing demonstration of the power of the mind and the will to do.
His grand entry tour around the hippodrome track prior to his trick riding and shooting acts was a sustained five minutes of cheering. His eyes seemed to be on everyone; his smile seemed to encompass everyone. The brilliant outfit he wore flashed out at the audience and the shining ornaments on Tony dazzled the spectators' eyes.
After his slow entry turn around the hippodrome track was finished, he would spurt Tony into a gallop. They raced around the track leaping hurdles and skirting obstacles with the same fire they had shown on the screen. He vaulted in and out of the saddle and leaned down until his head was close to the ground. He leaped and tumbled on horseback, alternating fork jumps with perfect jump-ups. His was absolutely the high achievement in gymnastic horsemanship.
During the last turn around the track Tom drew his six-shooter and, at high gallop, shot at and unfailingly brought down three targets perched at difficult angles in the tent rigging. The climax of this act brought a roar of appreciation from the spectators.
Dismounted in the center ring, Tom shot at and shattered with incredible speed and accuracy a volley of colored glass balls that an assistant kept throwing into the air. He shot at targets from every conceivable angle and position. He would, for example, lean over and shoot between his legs; or roll in a somersault and come up shooting; or hold up a mirror and shoot over his shoulder. He never missed.
If there ever had been any doubts among his followers that he had performed all the seemingly impossible tricks he had done on the screen, they were entirely dispelled when they saw Tom's skillful live performance.
Always of an inventive mind, he kept adding new tricks just as he had done when making pictures. One big trick he initiated in his lasso act the second season was his simultaneous roping of six cowgirls riding side by side in Roman parallel at high speed.
Every day he always had time to sign autographs for the hundreds of fans who came seeking them before and after every performance. He gave countless talks to various youth groups in the cities where the circus played, as well as many charity performances at hospitals. His special expression of charity went to crippled children. He devoted hours of his valuable time to giving thousands of them joy with the special shows he enacted for them. His financial contributions to charitable institutions were astronomical.
Though he lived in the luxury of a private railroad car, he took his meals with the crew and the other performers in the cook tent. The door of his car was always open to his friends and to anyone in need of counsel or help.
His happiest moment came, however, when Ruth joined him in the show during the 1931 season. She was only nineteen then, but she could hold her own with the best in her trick roping and shooting skills. Tom was the proudest man on earth when she appeared in his act with him. The stimulus of her presence gave him the power to display his greatest performances of all time during that season.
By the time Ruth was six years old the effects of her heritage were very much in evidence. Her daddy hadn't dubbed her his little cowgirl in vain. She grew to be slender and lithe, graceful and beautiful- the finest product of her father's life. And she became more and more proficient with horse, lasso, rifle and six-shooter. Tom taught her every trick she grew to know, and she displayed them with great competence in later years when she appeared in the Tom Mix Circus, and at the World's Fair in New York City in 1939.
Tom adored Ruth from the moment she was born. It was an adoration that continued in full intensity-and was thoroughly reciprocated-throughout Tom's life.
There was never a question of divided loyalties for Ruth after Tom and I were divorced. At a very early age she understood the real meaning of her father's place in the world, that he belonged more to the world than he did to us. And she also understood his love.
He saw her whenever he could. Given one free moment of his breathtakingly busy days, he would use that moment to call or visit her. Even when he was away on personal appearance and circus tours he never failed to reach her by telephone almost every day.
Tom's big mistake was in leaving his secure niche in the motion picture world to form his own circus. He could have gone right on making pictures, for in the 1930's the success of his early talking films proved that his screen popularity had not faded a bit. But his highly successful seasons with the Sells-Floto Circus had their effect on him. As he explained to a studio executive when he turned down a United Artists proposal to renew his contract: "I think I'll try the circus again. It gets me closer to people."
So he decided to give up making pictures on a regular basis, and made only a smattering of them after the middle 1930's. His life was centered thereafter in his circus, a venture that was to bring him heartbreak and almost destroy his spirit.
Perhaps there was another, even more personal, reason for Tom's decision to make a break from film-making. Being human, he was sensitive to the possibility of his screen popularity fading, for he had seen the same thing happen many, many times to other stars, and he wanted to finish his job on the screen in a final burst of glory, just as he had finished the other jobs he undertook in life.
I didn't realize that this fear existed in Tom until he came to visit us one day in the late 1920's. I noticed immediately that he was nervous. He was braiding a whip as he paced restlessly around the room. I recognized from these symptoms that Tom had a real problem on his mind.
"What's wrong? " I asked.
He continued pacing and didn't look at me at first. "Do you think it's time I bow out of pictures?" he said finally.
"Oh, no, Daddy!" Ruth exclaimed. She ran up to him and embraced him. It was a tonic that he needed at the moment. Tom looked at me. "Maybe they're getting a little tired of me. Maybe I'd better get out now while I'm still on top."
I looked at him with disbelief. "All right, tell us," I said. "What's happened to make you talk like this?"
He kept on pacing again, with Ruth trailing along, her hand in his. "The studio's considering a second series of Westerns to supplement mine," Tom said. "They're going to star a young fellow who's been an extra in my company for quite a while. His name is Buck Jones." Tom frowned. "I wonder what it means, Olive?"
I didn't hesitate. "It simply means that the studio feels there's room for two cowboy series," I said firmly. "There's plenty of room for both you and Buck Jones."
As it turned out, Buck Jones did become a great cowboy screen star; but he did not displace Tom, and there would have been plenty, of room for both of them.
Tom's reign as a screen star covered more than a quarter of a century, longer than that of any other top cowboy star. His worry that the public would tire of him was never fulfilled. When he left films, it was of his own accord. He chose a particularly bad time to make this move, however, for the country was in the depths of the Great Depression, but the Depression was one reason he made the move.
He had lost a great amount of money in the stock market crash, and although he recouped some of this with his large earnings from Sells-Floto, an extensive loss from a large-scale oil production investment and serious depreciation of his real estate holdings again reduced his bank account. During this period, too, a great many of Tom's friends needed help. His money flowed to them freely and even his income from pictures wasn't sufficient to take up the slack.
He tried to explain his decision to me. "Sells-Floto made a big profit, even though bad times had already started," he said. "I can't see any real reason why my own circus shouldn't make a profit, can you, Olive?"
"No," I said, because I knew he had made up his mind anyway; but I did feel a premonition of disaster.
I've got enough capital to get it started," he said, "and given a few breaks it should do all right." He smiled. "And a few of my old friends need jobs too. This will kind of give them a break."
I had thought as much. Tom never started any kind of venture from purely selfish motives.
He paced around. "These bad times make it rough on everyone. People need entertainment now more than ever. They need to be thrilled and given a chance to laugh. They must have fun now. It's important to a person's psychology in these bad times." He smacked his fist against his palm. "We'll charge the lowest admission charge we can make ends meet on,. and we'll give them the best show possible to offer."
"I know you'll do that," I said. "Tom, I have some money I can invest, if it will help." My oil royalties were still coming in regularly from the Oklahoma ranch.
He looked at me and smiled. "I knew I could count on you to help. But no, thanks, not this time. It's just too risky for you."
I knew then that he too foresaw an edge of blackness around his rosy dream.
There are an infinite number of things that can go wrong in a circus venture. It is first of all a terribly expensive undertaking. There is a tremendous amount of equipment to be purchased and maintained. Performers have to be fed, housed, moved, and paid. Animals must be cared for. There are countless problems to be faced every day. And there is the eternal bugaboo- the weather- to be faced. A week of bad weather can eat up all the profits a circus makes in a month of bland weather.
Even as these words are being written, that "Greatest Show on Earth"- Ringling Brothers- has given up fighting the disasters and hardships attendant upon a road show. But those valiant circus people will never be forgotten and there will be a great void for new generations. It is saddening when one thinks of the joy and excitement the circus gave to us as children. Some of the most thrilling moments of my youth were spent in watching the "big tent" being erected.... entering into a new and fascinating world filled with strange animals... the smell of sawdust... the band players with their natty red and gold buttons the clowns carrying on their antics.... As these memories return, probably I understand now more than I did then why Tom loved the circus.
The year Tom organized his circus was a bad year for all circuses. Economic illness had pervaded all businesses deeply and had touched upon the entertainment world with particular impact. Even such almost unshakable organizations as Barnum and Bailey and Ringling Brothers were faltering badly.
Tom spent all his available capital getting the show organized and went to every extreme to see that the show was perfect. Though his own act was the star attraction, he hired aerialists, bareback riders, equestriennes, and clowns to fill out the program and make certain there was something for everyone's taste. He engaged high-salaried artists and retained Johnny Agee as equestrian director. Johnny had formerly served in that capacity with Barnum and Bailey and Ringling Brothers. He was a top man in the field. He and Tom together organized a first-class show.
All the elements for success were there, but the bad luck began almost at once.
Tom's funds were exhausted by the time his circus moved out of its training quarters to play its first engagement. There was a wave of excitement among the performers and the crew as they moved by truck, bus, car and trailer toward the first town. Everyone was confident that a circus starring Tom Mix just couldn't fail. But Tom himself was worried. Unless the circus had immediate success he would find it difficult to meet the first week's payroll. Anything could happen. And it did.
Upon arrival in the first town Tom and his people were faced with a sickening sight; a flat gray sheet of rain, a torrent of it, which didn't stop, just went on and on. The circus grounds were a sleazy bog. Trucks and buses were soon up to their hubs in the miry ooze. It was the most discouraging sight Tom had faced since his black experience at the Western Washington Fair Grounds many years before.
Still, the show had to go on.
By the time the rain had abated for awhile, however, the damage was done. The ooze was deep. Erecting the big top in such bogging circumstances was a gargantuan task. Tom and the performers pitched in to help the canvasmen. They managed to get the tent up by the time the performance hour neared, but to little avail, for the rain had resumed its steady downpour by then and very few people were able or willing to battle through it for the first night's performance. The opening night didn't go well either, for the horses couldn't perform properly. Even the thick layer of straw covering the mud did not give the ground enough firmness to allow the show to proceed at anything approaching a fast clip. The action was cut in half.
Tom didn't reveal his discouragement to his people. After the show was over he congratulated them for doing such a fine job in such difficult circumstances. Then he and Johnny Agee went to Tom's trailer, where Tom immediately started munching on a piece of celery and drank buttermilk, a nightly ritual with him before he went to bed.
"Get some sleep," he told Johnny. "Tomorrow it will be better. It has to be."
But tomorrow wasn't better. And neither was the next day or the next. It rained almost continuously while Tom's circus played in that town. The enormous expenses kept mounting; and there were no profits to offset them. Matters worsened even more when the circus was stranded in the town and couldn't meet its next playing date in time because the -flooded conditions of outlying roads prevented movement of the motor caravan.
When they arrived at their next town it was pay day.
Tom called the performers and the crew together in a special meeting and gave them the details. "We've got enough for only half pay this week," he said. "I hope by next week we can make up the balance from this week's profits. If we can't, I'll get a loan from my bankers."
There was no dissension at that moment. Tom's word was unquestionable. Many of his friends were among the crew; and the rest of the people he had hired for the circus had grown to love and admire him just as had all the other persons who had worked with him.
But among the canvas crew was a troublemaker, a good man with oratory, who was soon bruiting it around that the show was doomed, that anyone in his right mind should demand his full salary right now or quit.
Not many people listened to him, but some did. A sort of creeping hysteria shuddered through the circus personnel. Suppose Tom couldn't get that loan? Suppose the week's profits were down? What if they were hit with another streak of bad luck right away? Circus people are invariably superstitious and they believe that catastrophe travels in groups of three.
Besides, in this period of economic unrest, everyone felt insecure. Money was very important to their sense of wellbeing; the thought of losing even a tiny part of a salary was enough to make for worry.
The alarm among the personnel grew steadily that week, for the box office was poor. Again it was rain-enormous quantities of it-that kept the customers away. Rain, the bane of any circus, seemed to be following Tom's circus around like a hound dog.
Pay day arrived again. Even though salaries were small in those days, the total payroll was large because of the many persons involved in putting on even a small circus. Besides the performers, there were the hostlers, the cage boys, the animal trainers, the property men, ring-stock men, blacksmiths, electricians, canvasmen, roustabouts, and the cook tent people to consider.
Tom had a big problem to face that night. He was aware of the talk that the troublemaking canvasman had spread around. He knew that even his best friends were somewhat jarred by it-as everyone is when economic security is threatened.
Tom called the performers and crew together again. "First of all," he said, "we'll lay the cards out flat. We didn't make enough profit this week to pay the balance due you on last week's salaries, let alone anything on this week's. And the loan from my bankers hasn't come through yet."
There was a murmur of discontentment from the assembly.
"I can't even promise that the loan will come through," Tom said. "With money so tight, banks can't take big risks, either. But I'm sure we're going to get through this as long as we all work together. You know I can't do this without you. I don't think we can fail. What do you think?"
The nervousness among the circus personnel gradually gave way to a wave of smiles. Some of them had expected Tom to fire the troublemaker, but instead of doing so and thus inflaming suspicions that the circus might be doomed, he ignored the man, and inspired his people to have confidence in him.
"I promise you'll get paid in full," Tom said, "no matter what happens."
Even in Tom's blackest days, when he had almost completely lost trust in himself, he was able to inspire confidence in others.
It was a quality that was largely responsible for his success in the first decade of the century when he served as a marshal in several Western communities. His wiseness and ability to create confidence stood him in far greater stead than his fast draw with a gun.
Gambling was a big problem during all stages of Western development. The miner, after spending weeks of hard labor dredging his reward, would go to town and lose all the product of his work to the nearest cardsharp. The cowboy, too, after a month of solitude and monotony on the ranch, generally took his pay to town for an outburst of exuberance which usually included a try at the gaming tables.
Brawls and even death were the results of many gambling sessions. Liquor, which the cowboys called "tangleleg" because it did exactly that to them, and gambling were the scourges of early Western life. Their effects on the population were much more devastating than any of the rigors of Western living proved to be. Yet tangleleg and gambling existed and flourished because they were a form of release that the lonely men of the ranges demanded.
The gambling situation was particularly bad in Dewey, Oklahoma. The city council demanded that Tom, as city marshall, drive every element of gambling out of the community. He had already driven out the itinerant cardsharps, but the council wanted a clean sweep made of the local talent too.
"We've already forbidden gambling by law," Tom told the council, "and that hasn't worked. Personally I believe that some men have to gamble. If we get too tough on them, we'll drive them under cover, and that'll make it all the harder for us to root out the swindlers."
The council asked for his plan.
"I think we should designate a few men to run gamesgood honest men," he told them. "We can watch them and keep them under control. Then if there's any trouble or any evidence of cheating, we'll know where to pin the blame. Besides, we can fine the gamblers for breaking the law and use some of the gambling profits to help build schools. If we control it, we have everything to gain. It's going to go on anyway, people being human."
The council decided to adopt Tom's plan. It worked. Daily life was all the more tranquil at Dewey after that, and the gambling fines helped pay for many a public building.
Tom's dealings with other people were always prudent and wise. He was able to communicate to them the bigger aspects of things. He was a natural leader, and people had faith in him.
Before Tom's circus played its final performance it was subjected to practically all the hazards of circus life: storms, floods, wrecks, fires, blowdowns, and heartaches. It was very hard for him during this period. Besides his financial worries, he was shouldering the double burden of being the star of his circus and its managing director. He felt his responsibilities keenly, and though his troubles had a deep effect on him he kept all his inner turmoil hidden from those he worked with.
The circus personnel suffered no ultimate financial misfortune. Tom himself did, however. Before the circus died, he lost his ranch in Arizona and all his money, and was forced to go deep into debt to his bankers.
He needed Ruth very much by the time she joined the circus.
Olive Stokes Mix, with Eric Heath, The Fabulous Tom Mix, (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, Inc.), 1957, pages 143-156.
© 1999, David Pierce, on editing and revisions (if any)
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